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Cné Oct 2017
The surf provides lullabies
as ocean echoes roll.
Too soon, the sunlight glitters
as the dawn turns gray to gold.

I wake and I rub my eyes
beside the sandy beach
My love beside me, languid lips
within an easy reach.

I whisper, sweet good mornings
as your dreams I brush away.
You stretch and yawn, responding to
requests to "come and play".

Lingered memories caress,
of last night's rising moon
with silver waves and ripples,
beyond the dark lagoon.

In shades of colors that mix and smudge
you take your time, no rush
My ******* tingle, at the thought
upon my skin, spreads flush.

In reverie, flutters reminisce,
your wanton body on mine.
Whispered moans in my ear, you ******,
"I'm yours", I hear on rewind.
When last night's... turns into this morning's
Smoke Scribe Feb 2015
crazy idea, silly notion,
then again,
come back, circle around,
why not, you ask yourself

now prior to posting hereon,
every word with extra care reviewed

sharing, checking in
with my beloveds,
here, those gone/disappeared

telling myself
telling anyone,
talking to you
letting you know
my grace, your grace,
one and the same,
my face, your face,
my child, my son

know you're
checking in,
checking out,
the comings,
the goings,
knowing full and well,
I see you,
my face, your face
everywhere and everyday

our conversation never ending,
look for me here,
at the intersection
of memory and what's up,
you see my messages,
responding in a thousand
different ways,
our dialogue unending,
formally organized
Face to Facebook,
your face, my Facebook
my child, my son
Allison Mar 3
I misplaced my love
in you,
blame it on my
running away
and these too-big shoes.
I gave myself away
to the crowd,
Found comfort
in being diluted,
drowned out
in this generic loud,
in someone who's proud
of my shape-shifting,
chameleon-tongued sound.
I’ve been responding
to the wrong name.
Lately just
a look of loss
and the chest pressure
of shame.
Beloved mistakes hang
butchered,
in the mirror’s frame.
I found myself
in a **** shop,
without enough
to reclaim.
Terry O'Leary Feb 2014
The Tale below was carved one night
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were moist, her face was pale
.........her eyes were moist, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream

One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...the Ship was struck where winter stormed
.........the Ship was struck where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the surf entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the surf entombed

Your James… deceived by Davy Jones!
With spirit freed, his flesh and bones
...now rest amongst the ashen Stones
.........now rest amongst the ashen Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades in dreams of darkness groan
.........where shades in dreams of darkness groan

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew -
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou  
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold -
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
Bewailed a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint, my body frail
.........which left me faint, my body frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze  
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“Eternal love, my darling Beth”
Enshrined within a final breath
...re-echoed from the Ship of Death
.........re-echoed from the Ship of Death

The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, a wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death’d been moored
...below, the icy ocean roared
.........below, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



                         Epilogue
That night the wayward winds were weird
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



                         Epitaph
Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps
kasia May 2016
this is not a ******* poem, but you could see it anywhere else i could post
and we can't have that
we can't have me talking to you, texting you, writing about you

and it's not ******* fair
i miss you
you won't talk to me anymore and i don't know what i ******* did

no one talks to me anymore
and i guess i'm not fit for ******* friendship
and i said it was okay if you don't always wanna talk
but you were supposed to still stick around!

i'm glad you're ******* happy
really, truly, i am.
but ******* i just wanna talk to you again.
you're driving me ******* crazy
and you're not even doing anything (but that's the problem isn't it?)

i wanna talk about when i'm scared and tired
and i wanna talk about when you're scared and tired
and i wanna be there for you

and honestly i want more than you just being there for me
when im about to throw myself out of a window

cuz everyone's ******* there when im about to **** myself
i want someone to be there when i'm not, too
i want someone to like me and talk to me (and keep talking)
for some other reason than
"you looked scared"
"i just didn't want you to be completely alone"
"you shouldn't **** yourself, i'll miss you" (well that's sudden)

and i thought you did. i thought we could talk about stuff that wasn't that
i thought we could talk about waffles and popcorn and annoying perfect people
we could talk about parks and rec and about being ***
we could talk about skateboarding and first kisses
and i hoped it would last more than just a little while
but i guess i was ******* wrong
and i always am

and im so mad at you for not responding except when i tell you
im gonna die
im so mad i never wanna talk to you again
******* for leaving without at least telling me why
but please come back  
i thought i had a friend
really not really a poem i just needed a place to rant and the girl this is about follows me everywhere else i posted and venting to my notebook and computer screen doesn't ******* help anymore
(abt T . imy friend)
Suki Feb 2018
As you stab your knife into my aching heart repeatedly
I loved you
I didn’t
I weren’t brave enough to tell me
You weren’t honest
You brought my hopes up for nothing
You told me you liked me
Making me fall for you
You picked me up when I fell
But now I fall into another arms
And you stomp on my face
Every word you said left a bad remark
Every action you did for me
Telling me little white lies
Its like looking through a looking glass
I was too dumb to see the truth
We had our thing
Video Chats and calls
Always talking,
Till you became distant
Weren’t responding
Ignoring me completely
Making me feel worthless
Till I asked you one day if you still liked me
You told me you didn’t feel the same way anymore
Bringing me down into my endless plunder
Your soothing voice became satan to me
I was acting okay,
But inside,
I was falling apart
I saw it coming
Thinking I was ready
But I was
I didn’t sleep
I didn’t eat
Making me feel like a mistake
Even though you said I wasn’t
But one thing you never understand is
I HAVE FALLEN FOR YOU AND IT WASN”T WORTH ANYTHING
Logan Robertson Nov 2018
Another volcano erupts
Masked as a mass shooting
Thousand Oaks is disrupts
By a gunman executing

Twelve innocent lives taken
Bloodshed rocked the mountain
Tremors of tears  are foresaken
As the sadness mounts in

In the afterglow of the sorry night
A hero officer is lauded
For responding with all his might
His ultimate sacrifice duly applauded

As many of the bar patrons ran in fear
While smokebombs and bullets sprayed the air
The evil gunmen with his calculated stare
Left the victims without a prayer


In the aftermath sits cratered questions
With depths far reaching as to why
Many innocents lives lost, echo
suggestions
Their indelible voices still cry

For we're resigned to sitting  in all  normacy
With no foresight on stopping the flow
As another mass shooter festers in dormacy
And this is so sickening to watch it blow

Logan Robertson
11/07/2018
Pray for the victims, survivors and those affected by the Thousand Oaks shooting. Pray for us all.
Kewayne Wadley Sep 2018
Asking a question does more than fill open space.
It expresses curiosity.
Devolving into things not easily expressed.
Given our availability.
It expresses a deeper need for connection.
Whether we are open to what we desire most.
Closed off to preference.
 The right time of day or night we can de-clutter.
Taking in what we give out.
Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom.
Or merely because your there.
It expresses a thought that requires action.
That I've thought of you.
That there is a desire laid bare.
An anticipation that builds until the next time
I am able to hear your voice.
For the more serious moments require a deeper tone.
An ear that senses deeper need.
Responding to this deep need of connection.
A need of care.
A need of longing.
To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility.
But in the openness of being
Technosmith Jan 28
The fluttering curtains. The rough stone wall.
The rhythm of the leaves in concert with the wind chimes.
Clearer.

A fertile space, bombarded by life, love, tragedy.
Nourishing.

The thin film of perspiration responding to the warm tea.
The cup cooling to ambient.
Connected.

An ageing body shaped by rich diverse experience.
A backward glance to a faraway waning peak.
Acceptance.

Countless journeys guiding me here.
Tomorrows destinations biased by passion and purpose.
Mystery, uncertainty, yet infinite clarity bound together.
An unconscious knowing, omnipresent.
Contentment.
Annatman Feb 20
Upright, shuffling forward
With time and space
Navigating through the light,
Responding to frequencies,
Degrees of temperature,
Unseen fluctuations, unknown
Ever-changing phenomena
Impermenant, ever ending and
Locked in the present, but never
Still in it, always
Transformed by the inner
And outer, and looking
To find oneself, the elusive
Being, somewhere,
Everywhere in between
What a strange creature we are
Umi Jul 2018
To prayers,
To calls, where the path has long been sealed away by fate.
An angels legend, the rumours spread across a deserted hell,
Is it a demon who fell into this world by some kind of well ?
The mirroring magic, a banishing sword, responding to their possessors in hope to set raging potential free, in hope to be of use,
But is it the end of the road when a demon awaits your calling ?
Only your heart is responsible for letting the whispering deceive you,
The positve and negative, those two who manipulate the ways of our thinking, are always around you, lingering, waiting, striving, for a chance to overthrow the other to have an impact on your vision,
How will you respond to either outcome without being tricked ?
It is from now until the moment you die, it is from now until the end of time, your senses are responsive upon your every second of life,
Every single one of us lives depending on and bound by our knowledge and awareness, this is our own little reality
But always remember, both knowledge and awareness are equivocal,
So what makes you so sure that this reality of yours is not an illusion?

~ Umi
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
To all officers: 504 ERROR
Two German couriers DIAGNOSED WITH AFIB
THIS HAND LOTION IS carrying official documents
murdered on train from LIKE US FOLLOW US

Screen freeze: restart

Oran. AN ERROR OCCURRED IN THE SCRIPT
Murderer ELIMINATES LAUNDRY ODORS
and possible JAW DROPPING accomplices
headed for NOT RESPONDING Casablanca.

Screen freeze: restart

WE’VE GOT AN UPGRADE FOR YOU round up all
suspicious characters TRY IT YOURSELF

Screen freeze: restart

Thanks to:
https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=casablanca
for access to the script of Casablanca.
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
He Pa'amon Feb 2017
Dear boy who I threw my virginity at,

I never expected you to like me,
I purposefully picked you because I thought you were a **** boy.
We'd **** and forget.
I was some random chubby senior
and you were some random ****** sophomore.
But then you didn't let me leave,
even when I tried, you only held me closer.

I liked you because I thought you must honestly like me.
I liked you because I could not see how someone like you
could like someone like me.
You went for the skinny, blonde, dumb ones,
I was not skinny, nor blonde, nor dumb.

And I liked your dumbness, your childish innocence,
even though I was way more innocent than you.
I liked that you defied all my expectations
when you were sweet, and vulnerable, and there.

And I loved when you were ratchet,
when you'd slap my *** in public,
or try to force your hand down my pants while I was driving or on the phone.
I loved it when we'd go to parties and not actually show up because we'd just be ******* in my car.

But I was leaving to college and refused to ever call you my boyfriend but I liked you.
I liked you because nothing about us made sense,
but we did it anyways.

and then I ****** someone else, just to show you have much I didn't care about us, but I did.

Dear man who I played,

You came to me when I was at a low,
low point in my life.
I believed nothing I did was wrong and everything about me was perfect.
I was fine,
even if everyone around me told me I was not.
I was not fine.

And then you came to me,
and you were everything I was supposed to avoid.
You were way older than me, worked for my father and even dated one of his exes, and your life was going nowhere.
You were perfect.

And I didn't like you that way, you never gave me butterflies,
you never made me giggle every time you slapped my ***,
but you made me *** and our relationship made me walk on egg shells.

And I saw you fall for me, I saw you wrap yourself around my finger
saying the whole time you expected nothing of me.
And maybe that was true, but you wanted it all, you wanted all of me
and I craved that.

And now every time I see your name pop up on my phone I feel grimy.
I feel grimy because I can finally feel the weight of how wrong you were for me,
I feel grimy because of the overwhelming guilt I feel for feeling disgusted by you,
someone I never liked but almost made fall in love with me.
because of the overwhelming guilt I have for being such a ****
and the shame of allowing myself to be so cold.

so I stopped responding.

Dear boy with the beautiful eyes,

I liked you, I really liked you.
I thought we fit together so nicely,
and yes, at first you were another that I was not supposed to go for.
You could have been fired and constantly had a gun on you.
You were supposed to be protecting us
and that was ****.

And then you whispered sweet things in my ear in your broken english,
and we spent a whole night only kissing, and I loved every minute,
yearning but not needing more.  
I could have kissed you forever.

then came the staring, you'd look at me and say nothing, and I was mesmerized.
and you'd trace my ****** features and I never felt more special, more wanted, more loved.
and I never wanted you to stop staring at me because I never wanted to stop staring at you.

and then I was at your house,
with your lovely, hippie family.
and you made me breakfast and tea, and we read together on the couch,
each in our own language.

and every time we ******, you'd look into me and I felt like maybe this is what people meant when they said making love.

You'd wrap me in your arms, and I never wanted to leave,
but ever comforted by the fact that in a few weeks I would be leaving
to a different country, to a different life, to somewhere where
I would not have to face my growing feelings for you.

and now I sit with a heavy heart, half way across the world, missing you and your beautiful eyes.

Dear boy who gives me bruises,

I think I like you, and it scares me because you do not live half way across the world.
You live down the hall.

It scares me because you are smart, weird, fun, and someone I could actually date.
And I don't date, I ****.

It scares me because I still have nightmares that your ex/my ex-bestfriend will still ****** me if she ever knew we were *******,
but thats another story.

I like the way you are unapologetically odd,
a slob and sometimes completely antisocial.
I'm always sad when you don't sleep over after ***
but I enjoy how awkwardly you say good night and leave.

But I love how ***** and rough our *** is.
it's not the best *** I've had,
but its *** with you that I always want to have
and its the same *** I fantasized about in high school while watching ****.

it's so twisted
and I twirl in the mirror, admiring the countless bruises covering my *** and spattering my collar bone.

We've boxed ourselves in this drunken corner
of such ****** up *** that I think were scared to do it sober.

I love our drunken after-*** rambles about philosophy and life
but as soon as the ***** runs out and the sun rises,
it's all the same awkward laugh and shifty gazes at the floor.

and I wonder what the **** I'm trying to do with you, this boy who loves memes and rough *** and has such a brilliant mind,
and the answer is I have no ******* idea.

And when I'm honest with myself, I think I like you because you don't like me so all this fear is for nothing.

but I wait for the ***** to flow again and the sun to set, and for us to do it all over again.
M-E Nov 2018
Thankful I am
For the fresh fruits,
The refreshing, cold water,
A shadowy tree
On a blazing day
A home, a warm cover
On a freezing night

Thankful I am
For a smile
To remember for a while
Or forgetting a scar
Putting it on deleted files

Thankful I am
For a word of advice
Enlights my obscurity
For responding my prayers
The way you know it fits
For knowing whats best

Thankful I am
For a sudden act
Changes my life away
From an unwanted outcome
For an unwanted event
Leading me away from going astray

Thanks for what I thought of
Thanks for what didn't went through my mind
Thank you for being generous and kind
Thankful I am for breathing each day knowing I am your servant.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
A contest twixt reasons to be

Con test ants take your po
si shun

push sush slow n stedya

There's a being, I once thought fellow who needs this test
to pass,
he has studied with masters and knows near as muchas Faustus
but he is scared there could be hell to pay,
some day.
(Catholic maybe, but he believes some lies about what he doesn't
believe for a good reason, maybe boomers with non-hero dads,
them and priests imagined some hellish **** make Loyola nuts.)

just breathe and be wit
be wit me
meinthee'n'theeinme and this ain't ***, kid.

This ain't ceasing for a moment to be me meditation, this
is Sisyphus being happy out loud

in a crowd, you know how that feels everybody
shouting hallelujah like it means everything

and it does again and not everybody, but many bits
of everybody, knows that I don't know what. I don't

know what Hallelujah is supposed
as meaning,
you ax me glory must first be defined,
compared to what
Hallelu?

Jah, right tuff won, the Name, Ha Shem

but glory, what is glory?
What's it weigh?
Worth-y or light?
Air or stone, or iron, or silver, or allah those and gold?

Time,
value that. Why?
Navigation needs a clock, for the test,
minus the lag as the rock rolls free from time to time
        Looky
        here, the alchemy guy say:
Uranium to lead for a clock to find, or
the missing helium that implies, to the wise.

A word's enough,

fu'few,

Loser vibe. Phone rings. It's a robotic femaivoice saying
power may be cut to me due to high fire danger

Are hopes prayers? I hope so,
and wishes could be I think, if they were in this realm

no evil imagined here makes it past the third and final
in sane un sane in cip I sent sentient cons eee ince

test. So, know, dear reader, we mere words,
weal build worlds witcha
but we won't lie.

Book of Life, first chapter, look it up.

The Jails burn around my kind,
minstrels in the woods still sing of men like me.
mistrals, the winds, wrap the world
and, listen,
you know
mistral whispers to sirocco as they

send swirls of spirational science-eance to form

ideal angels dancing
pirouette on the point of my pen.
2 per angstrom.

----
Those winds are in a mind I manage mine,
I make right use of them by
responding to the signals,
the prods, needles'n'pins, now

Rock and roll saved my rubber sole,
my mnemonic savior rescued me

Sisyphus, ah, we all think you happy and

hallelujah, too. To you, Mr. Cohen,
thank you. You got me through a few...

Contention only comes from pride,

and momma don'low no pride in heeyah

Stick that in yer ear, and smoke it.
Here we get along
or we ain't,
see.

Crazy guy with the dog collar, remember him?
He's gone. Outa here.

Don't fret, he is one of the first in every cycle to recall
Nietzsche thought God dead and Sisyphus happy.

Was he mad or sad?
Sad I say. Sad to say he never knew a great
god almighty that he liked enough to get caught
up in a joy explosion of hallelujahs and such,
he never dared

e=motions you know where those go.

I do.
They go to the fuzzy edge of everything ever realized yet.

But no one, so far, has realized that all at once, in time

the rock stops rolling and we, if you imagine
happy ever after is re-alivable,

spiritually, you know, in your dreams or such,
not religion
bad word,
whoa puppy, did somebody beat you for your own good?
Poor idle word, abuse of such a strong idea
a bandaid on reality,
who could hate
your idea?
re-connect, better, okeh?
not religion.
Just made a connection. Okeh.

we live here, feel at home

Well, jus as well we rest and see if we agree with what we just,
just always means everything it ever does now,
tis ne're an idle word here nomo. Nor discouragin' ones.

Just now. Perfect oh, that which

concerns you. How would that be if it were perfected?

Say, you know? no, me neither. true, rest. smunchemup= trust
trust me. You lost? Hell?

Every body sing with the Kachinas

Nobody knows the trouble I seen,
nobody knows but jee ee ee sus

as they fade…
so there. amen. and the sunshine's in and we are seeing
novel mercies never thought,
new in every detail,
no lie. Life wins.
Death is in on it.

It's fixed, it can go on as long as you may imagine you can.
More of the Sisyphus myth where nobody is thinking suicidal solutions to temporary mortal problems.
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